


You Call This Progress - I Call It Decay

by kyanve



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 12:34:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyanve/pseuds/kyanve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set not long before G and Giotto met Cozarto.  Just because they weren't on the road didn't mean they were sitting on their hands - they'd already gotten attention...</p>
<p>And with attention, considering what they were dealing with, there's also a few "offers".  </p>
<p>Also Giotto at Tsuna's age is kind of terrifying and a little crazy, but then, he'd have to be for what he ended up doing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Call This Progress - I Call It Decay

**Author's Note:**

> I've done way too much research for the Primo-Gen. Clothes and various other background details place them around the end of the 1800's, and also, not coincidentally, the end of the Italian Unification War, which was very internally messy and where most Mafia actually started. It's also one of those funny notes that it was a time period a little ahead of a lot of our modern age standards about childhood/maturity/adulthood settling into place. Legal independence from parental say in major decisions like marriage didn't come until twenty, but otherwise you'd be expected to be a mature and functional member of the household at about thirteen or fourteen. In perspective, this makes him having started at "about Tsuna's age" make a WHOLE lot more sense - for that day, they were already basically "young adults".

It'd _been_ a nice, quiet day. 

The first nice, quiet day in an otherwise nasty week; they were both still a mess of bruises and bandaged-over scrapes from two successive scuffles, one of which had involved kicking armed men out of Giotto's father's shop. That last one he was pretty sure he shouldn't have survived; he still wasn't sure how he'd done it, and they'd agreed that it was more headhurt than help to discuss it until they had some kind of slight clue what the Hell had happened. 

Instead, Giotto had concluded it was clearly a day to go out and get lunch and eat out by the beach; enjoy the relative peace while it lasted, at least up until "You got your ass handed to you by two twelve year olds what is wrong with you" inevitably led to "get back there and deal with them". He hoped it was later rather than sooner; he was pretty sure he could still feel his head ringing from the day before, and it hurt a bit to swallow where the guy'd had hands around his throat. 

The sound of voices up the hill a bit sank some of that; he couldn't make out what was being said, but there were men he didn't recognize asking questions, and the fisherman's wife they were asking sounded frightened. He'd hunched around his roll trying to ignore it, but not only was there the sound of footsteps coming their way, G had to say something - or half-whisper something with a glance back.

"I think we've got trouble." 

A couple seconds later, any hope of pretending to not know what was going on pretty well dashed, as he was addressed from a few feet behind.

"Giotto Cipriani - the glassblower's son, right?"

He turned, shifting on the rock to look; the three of them were dressed very nicely - if he didn't know better, he'd be questioning what some borderline upper-class were doing dressed for an important meeting in the middle of a tiny coastal village, and the way two of them were slightly less-dressed and on either side of the one speaking, this was probably someone with rank. 

His enthusiasm for this utterly overflowed.

"May I help you?" It was a courtesy, but a flat one, making no effort to stand or move; they weren't dressed or acting like they were looking for a fight.

"We just wanted to have a talk with you, on behalf of our boss." The older man - slim, maybe late middle-age, well kept - settled down to sit facing him on the beach, to a slight uncomfortable shift from his bodyguards. G got tired of craning his neck around and shuffled to see better, not even hiding his annoyed, mild disbelief.

"I'd imagine he's not very happy with me." He was trying to be nonconfrontational, really, he was, but there wasn't any better way to put that.

The mafioso gave a smile that rang false to Giotto, shaking his head lightly with a shrug. "Well, you certainly made fools of us, but you were acting on behalf of your family; you're a good son - it's an admirable thing." 

And he wouldn't have to do it if their Famiglia would lay off trying to expand their territory and stop trying to shake the fairly poor village down for tributes, but he wasn't going to say that one out loud, much as he could see G bristling out of the corner of his eye thinking it, too. "Somehow I doubt you came all this way to tell me you were willing to accept that and leave us alone."

"Actually, I came here with an offer - to negotiate a deal." 

There was a just-audible grumble of "Y'gotta be kidding me" as G started to move to - stand, leave, maybe hit them, Giotto wasn't sure; he motioned at G with one hand to settle, getting a less intelligent grumble and G slouching in a sulk next to him, a gesture that got a raised eyebrow and a quiet chuckle from the man.

"If I stay here and listen, am I obligated to accept?" He gave a quick glance to the bodyguards, and where he was pretty sure that slight out of place crease in their jackets hid guns. He'd heard enough to know how this game could go.

"Of course not. All I'm asking is to hear us out and maybe avoid more pointless fighting." 

It wasn't a very good answer, and G's disbelief was starting to turn into a solid entity, but for the moment, Giotto much preferred the idea of finding a way to talk them into leaving to picking another fight and getting another crack to the skull. "So what's the basic offer." He had a guess already, and wasn't doing a good job hiding the lack of interest in that question, but.

"You're a bright kid, strong, capable, and Hell, you're already trying to carry yourself like a Capo -" There was a nod towards G, hinting at the exchange a minute ago, that got a growl and another bristle - "To be honest, it's kind of a waste for you to be out in some middle of nowhere village with everything that's going on in the country lately." He managed to not roll his eyes; here they went. "You and your friend come back with us; we'll set you up with work, give you anything you'd want. Your father and the shop get our protection no questions asked - anybody bothering him or the village gets to go through us first, you get to make a name for yourself and maybe make a difference past making fishing-floats and selling trinkets to the occasional traveler; you work for us, and you get the entire Family backing you." 

"And shaking down the villagers for 'payment'?" 

"You think we'd do anything to threaten the hometown of one of our people? You join us, we protect them, nothing else asked." 

G snorted, looking at Giotto and almost laughing. "Damn, when did you get to be worth that much? You guys sure you're not the ones that got hit upside the head?" 

That definitely got the bodyguards shooting G some very unpleasant looks and shifting about ready for a fight, and Giotto wanting to cringe; he didn't really want to get drug into a fight here - but the one in charge raised a hand and the bodyguards settled back, sullen and unhappy with it; the mafioso addressed G this time. "Your friend here's pulled off things that'd impress people twice his age - he's got a rare talent." 

"What, you mean the thing where he lights himself on fire? That's not a big deal, lemme go get a good fire going and I'll show you how that -"

"Shut up G." It was grumbled through his hands, as he'd buried his face in them, and the mafioso was laughing, but at least G obeyed...albeit grinning like he'd just accomplished something. 

"You kids really have no idea what you're doing, do you." There was something implied there that tugged at Giotto unpleasantly. "We'll teach you anything you want to know, make sure you're set for life - the two of you could have a good sized house to yourself in a few years, never have to think about where the next meal's coming from, and make a place for anyone you want to take care of." 

G stretched, folding his hands behind his head lazily and giving Giotto a half-whisper of the "I don't actually care if anyone overhears" sort. "You think a free meal ticket's worth putting up with these assholes?" 

He frowned, thinking; if they wanted him because he'd been able to fight off their men like that, or for whatever the Hell had happened yesterday... "And what kind of 'work' do you want me for? Going out to threaten the poor out of their life savings?" 

So it was less diplomatic than he'd been originally planning on being; he wasn't sure he cared right now, he wasn't going to turn around and bargain to not have to fight off thugs by becoming one himself.

"Honestly, with what you're capable of? You'd be wasted on anything small; you'd be out on the front lines, making sure the less reasonable Famiglia don't move in, dealing with assholes and bandits, pitching in on the revolution... do well enough and you might end up one of the people in charge." 

G was looking to him, and he'd be lying if he said there wasn't temptation; if they kept their word, the village would be safe, his father would be taken care of, and the immediate, direct problems would be dealt with, without a further fight. He was pretty sure he'd still be called on for a few flat-out murders and things that weren't nearly as 'noble' as the pitch he'd gotten, but maybe if he could get high enough to take control, get them obeying him...

Then he'd have clawed his way through spending however long being just like them, and would be the head monster of a bunch of monsters. 

"No." He stood up, whether it was to walk away or be in a better position to fight back if they took the refusal badly; G followed suit with a grin and a pretty clear preference for "fight back". "No deal. You go back and tell your boss he can go looking for a leashed dog somewhere else, and that if his men keep threatening people here, I'll keep chasing them off." 

There was a moment as the two bodyguards shared a look, then looked down to the one in charge; if it'd been a little less absurd looking than two scrawny, battered twelve year olds, they'd probably have already been moving to do something. As for the one in the lead, he leaned his chin on one hand. "Are you sure that's your answer?"

They were maybe four feet away, with the one in charge closest, and he could pick out where he was pretty sure that one had a gun, too; if he moved fast enough, he could probably get that away and toss it to G, use him as a shield against the other two... "Yes." 

The leader stood, dusting off his slacks from the beach sand. "It's a shame...damn waste - we'll be listening if you ever change your mind." He turned to leave, gesturing for the other two to follow; there were glances back at the two boys until they were out of sight, somewhere between "Are they going to try something" and "shouldn't we be putting them in their place". Giotto didn't move until they'd disappeared around a building, while G kept glancing between them and Giotto.

"We could've taken them."

Giotto shrugged, still watching where they'd disappeared. "They're not going to give up like that... we should get back to the shop - take the side streets."


End file.
